


Spock and Ensign t'Nyar

by inadaydream



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Lemon, NSFW, Pon Farr, Romance, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, mindreading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 05:42:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20989784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inadaydream/pseuds/inadaydream
Summary: This started out as a series of one-shots, but I decided to combine them into one story.I based the characters off of the original series, but there are probably more elements from Voyager than the original.This is a romance story between Spock and Ensign t'Nyar, who is a Romulan.  It shows the up's and down's in how they get together.It's posted in the order I wrote it, which jumps back and forth in their story.  If you'd like to read it in chronological order it's: Chapter 2, 4, 3, 5, 1.The NSFW chapter is Chapter 5.Chapter 1 is the Tooth-Rotting Fluff.And Feedback is welcome :)*******************************************************************************





	1. Chapter 1

(scene set-up: Begins on Planet Vulcan, after Spock and Ensign Hisa t'Nyar have completed one of the Pon Farr rituals)

“And is your mate here?”

“Yes. She is on the planet’s surface. Nearby,” Spock answers.

“Call her here,” the physician requests.

“Do you **need** her here?”

“Do you find it logical to travel all this distance for us to check you over, and to not examine her as well? Especially since she is here?” The physician stares at Spock.

He sighs and looks away. “You are correct in wishing to examine her as well. However, my choice is not illogical. I am protecting her.”

“From us?”

“Perhaps.”

“Why?” The physician quirks an eyebrow. “Do you feel we would quarantine her? Is she ill? You said she did not appear to have altered her behavior. What that a false statement?”

“No, it was not.” Spock looks back towards the doctor.

“Then what reason do you have for bringing her here, and refusing her treatment, if it’s needed?” The physician inquires.

“Because she is not Vulcan.”

“We’ve tended to other species since joining The Federation.”

“In this capacity?” Now it is Spock’s turn to quirk an eyebrow, as he meets the physician’s gaze.

“It is rare, but if the couple is discreet… Yes.”

“She is Romulan.”

Spock’s confession does not get him the response he had anticipated. Perhaps he’s been around humans for too long. The stoic physician merely blinks at the Commander’s admission.

“It is not unheard of. After all, we share a common ancestor. There have been enough over the years who have mated with a Romulan in the hopes of uniting our people again. Bring her in. We should make sure the bonding is complete on her side as well.”

“Alright.” Spock uses his com badge to talk to her, though he has already sent her a telepathic message asking her to join him. “Ensign t’Nyar, please report to the South Wing of this facility. They will have someone direct you to my room.”

“Yes, sir,” comes a firm reply.

“She will be here momentarily.”

“Of course.”

*****

The personal message Spock had sent her, was far less demanding and impersonal_. Hisa. I am in room 105, but someone will bring you to me. They are aware you are Romulan, so don’t be nervous. Also, they are aware you are my mate, so don’t be hostile._ He feels her chuckle at that. He wants to smile in return, but not with the audience around him. Instead he sends her the com message, and waits. 

He can sense she is moving closer. 

*****

The door opens, and they usher her in. Hisa tries not to show any reaction, to remain as stoic as the Vulcans around her, but it’s hard when she’s so close to Spock. Her eyes immediately go to him and she falters in her step. Her pupils slightly dilate.

None of this goes unnoticed, though thankfully, it goes unmentioned. She turns to the physician as Spock introduces them.

“Ensign, this is Doctor Nisik. They would like to do an examination of you to ensure nothing went wrong with the bonding.”

She tries again to hide her reaction, but fails, as her eyes widen then narrow, her checks start to stain red, and she shoots a warning look to Spock, who merely shrugs. _That is what we are here for and I did warn you_, he tells her with a slight shrug.

_Yes_, comes her careful response. _But I did not expect you to say so out loud._

A muscle ticks at her jaw line, and she faces the doctor again. Her eyes hardened. Not out of anger, mind you, but out of annoyance. Besides, being brittle and silent is the only way she knows how to deal with embarrassment while maintaining her composure. She is not a Vulcan, no matter how she tries to emulate them.

After a tense moment, Doctor Nisik indicates to a colleague, telling Ensign t’Nyar she should follow them. 

“This way,” the colleague says. 

Hisa sweeps past the doctor, and into the other room, but not before she hesitates for the barest moment as Spock tries to sooth her. _It will be alright._ _They have already examined me, and it was very routine. Relax Hisa… for me._

*****

He feels her annoyance, but tries not to pry. She will give him an earful later if she wishes to share her thoughts. He knows that much about her.

He made the mistake one time, while trying to show her some Vulcan meditative techniques, on asking what was bothering her. She insisted “nothing” a few times, until he grew irritated enough to inform her that he could feel her emotions. They were clogging up the room with their negativity, and if she didn’t address them, the session was done.

She had stared at him, surprised. A small smile forming.

“Why are you grinning?” he asked. “We have not solved your issue.” Confusion laced his normally passive tone.

“You showed some emotion. You didn’t outright yell at me, but close enough for you, I suppose.”

He growled under his breath at being caught. “Are you always so difficult? I could almost mistake you for a Klingon,” he commented.

And that was the first time he heard her laugh. It caught him off guard. He had expected anger, not the relaxed person she was showing him. She was normally reserved and quiet. This was a side he hasn’t seen before, not even when she was around others. He had softly smiled at her. And when she had seen him, she had quieted down quickly, and watched him. He didn’t understand the look she gave him then, but he understands it now. He saw that look when she had entered this room several minutes ago, and stumbled. 

*****

“The results show that she is fine. The bonding is complete,” Doctor Nisik states.

“Thank you,” Spock says rising from his seat. An irritated Hisa straightens up from where she was leaning against the wall. 

Everyone nods a good-bye to each other as Spock and Hisa exit the room. They are alone as they walk down the hallways back to the main lobby. A few orderlies and doctors pass, but no one they recognize. Spock keeps his hands clasped behind his back; his body language thoughtful. 

“Was it as bad as you are making it out to be, Hisa?” He keeps his voice low, but she still shoots him a panicked, embarrassed look at her name being said out loud. 

He makes a note to be more careful about saying her name, but chooses not to comment on her warning. “It went better than some examines I’ve had McCoy do,” he continues. “I imagine it wasn’t as personal as you feared.”

“It was fine,” comes t’Nyar’s clipped reply.

“Hmm.” Spock stops walking, and Hisa looks around confused.

“Can we just stop here? Won’t someone question it?”

“Why would they? We are doing nothing wrong. And we were patients here.” He gently grips her arm, just below the elbow. _Be calm, Hisa. Talk to me. _

She stares into his eyes, and does feel calmer, but only because endorphins are running thru her system right now. She feels heat pool low in her pelvis as his grip tightens the smallest amount. How does he do this to her so easily? _Can he tell? I hope not… I hope so…_

“I can,” Spock tells her.

She adverts her eyes, and he releases her arm, clasping his hands behind his back again.

“I am just better at controlling those urges than you are,” he tells her matter-of-factly.

She glares at him. “I am not acting on my ‘urges’,” she whispers harshly at him. “And you wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t… don’t touch me.” t’Nyar turns and marches down the hallway.

A soft smile ghosts his lips as he follows her with a sigh.

*****

“So everything is okay?” McCoy asks the two as they head to the rendezvous point.

t’Nyar clenches her jaw and remains silent. A scowl on her face.

“Yes. Everything is fine,” Spock answers.

“Really?” McCoy questions, a nod towards the angry Romulan.

“I’m fine,” she huffs, then remembers who she’s talking to. She drops her arms, straightens her frame, and looks at the doctor. “I’m fine, sir,” she affirms.

“Hmm,” he says, the same way Spock had moments ago. Her eyes narrow, but she stays still. “Okay. Good enough for me.” 

The Doctor turns his attention to Spock who was curiously watching the interaction between Leonard and Hisa. He learned that trick long ago. If he wanted her to behave, he just reminded her of his rank, and she was all business. It was interesting to watch her do the same with others.

“…was amazing,” the Doctor’s telling him. “I was lucky they wanted to trade medical information. This will add quite a bit to our database,” McCoy gushes, showing a small circular diskette in his hand.

Spock focuses his attention on his friend and colleague. “I am happy that this trip was fruitful for you. I, personally, will be glad to return to duty,” Spock states.

“Yes, I’m sure you are. It’s been, what? A week now?”

“Approximately,” Spock returns.

“Mmm, well, I can’t wait to see what data they put on this for me,” McCoy says as they reach the rendezvous point. He touches the badge on his chest. “3 to beam up.”

*****

“Glad to see you back on the bridge,” Captain Kirk beams at Spock.

“Yes. I am glad as well,” comes the Vulcan’s mild reply.

“Join me in my ready room, hmm?”

*****

“So… will you two be living together?” Kirk asks, with a gleam in his eye.

“That remains to be seen.”

“On what? Whether I approve of the change in quarters? Or…” he asks slyly, “on whether the lady in question even wishes to share a bed with you?”

Spock simply stares at the Captain, who claps him on the arm, laughing. “Now, why wouldn’t she be willing? I hear the ritual went off quite smoothly.”

The Vulcan bristles at being reminded that he was in the throes of Pon Farr mere days ago. “That is a private matter,” he grits out.

The captain eases up on his friend. “Alright. I concede. Do what you want and let me know how it works out. If we end up with an extra room, give it to… Mavis.”

“He is not next on the list,” Spock points out.

“Fine. I’ll let you take care of it. Good?”

“Yes.”

“So… what’s it like being married? I, myself, don’t plan on settling down anytime soon. Too much to do. Too many options,” Kirk winks, which the Vulcan ignores.

“Being as it’s only been two days, I cannot answer that question.”

“I’m sure it will work out for you. Beside she seems quite…”

“Careful, Captain,” Spock warns.

“What?” Kirk says with mock hurt. “I was merely going to say, she seems lovely.”

“Mmm,” the skeptical Vulcan replies.

*****

Several days pass with everything seeming to return to how it was before. Ensign t’Nyar stays in her quarters, and carries on with her security duties. Unfortunately for her, those duties sometimes take her in the vicinity of a certain male Vulcan.

Today, she is being required to be around him longer than she feels is necessary, and she doesn’t know who to blame.

“You are distracting,” Spock states, barely glancing up from the 5th specimen he’s collected in the past hour.

“I haven’t done anything, **sir.** I am merely maintaining a secure perimeter around you and your party.”

“I do not need you to be interested in what I’m doing, but, perhaps, if you could frown less, things might move along at a faster pace,” he blandly suggests.

“Who says I’m not interested?” Hisa makes the mistake of looking at him, instead of at the scenery. 

He glances up at the same time; their eyes locking. Her face warms, and she quickly looks away. _Damn him_, she thinks. She tries to ignore him, and to focus on the job, but her eyes keep flitting to him, and her doubts start to surface. One’s that she only lets out when she’s alone in room her at night. 

_Why hasn’t he asked for me? Why doesn’t he talk to me? Does he regret it already? I **knew** he would. I **told him** he would. Just leave him be. Don’t push him. Don’t let him know how you feel. Go back to how things were. It will all be forgotten soon. No one knows anyways. _

And then she’d cry a little, and try to get some sleep.

So far, she was keeping up appearances. Her work wasn’t suffering, and no one seemed to notice anything was amiss. 

Except someone does notice, but guilt and uncertainty has kept him from acting.

By the end of the shift, he can feel that her nerves are frayed. Both by the proximity to him, and for staying alert for any wildlife or indigenous people that might mean the science team harm.

As they prepare to beam back up to the ship, he moves by her. “I should thank-you for stopping the quadruped that tried attacking one of my officers.”

“Of course, sir,” t’Nyar replies briskly.

Spock hands her a case of specimens, and picks up a satchel that he hangs off of his shoulder. t’Nyar takes the case, and moves into position for transport. 

As they wait, Spock decides now is the time to broch the subject he’s been putting off. _Hisa?_ She flinches, but doesn’t look at him. _We need to talk._ He sees her barely nod out of the corner of his eye. _Stop by my room after your shift._

She nods again, and just before they teleport, Spock feels an overwhelming sense of grief from her. The emotion confuses him as he see no cause for it.

*****

His door chimes and he moves towards it, curious to know why Hisa didn’t simply come in.

He’s been meditating for the past hour, trying to calm his nerves. It doesn’t help that Hisa’s emotions are exceptionally strong right now. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. No, he shakes his head, he needs to put things right. He can’t listen to her mentally flog herself night after night.

His door chimes again before he steps over and it opens. A very nervous Romulan is standing before him. She doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, or where she should look, as her eyes roam over the room behind him, barely skimming him. Her actions wound him, though he hopes they are unintentional.

Spock steps aside to let her pass. She takes up the invitation, sliding past him to stand awkwardly in the middle of his living room.

How odd that just a week ago she was trying to make him feel better, and now it was his turn. How quickly things change.

“Hisa?” Her eyes shoot to his, anger, desire, and uncertainty all in one. “I need to apologize,” he begins. “We should’ve talked right away, but I wanted to give you time.” Hope, that’s all she’s conveying right now as she listens to him. “I pushed you to make a choice,” Spock continues. “I should have better acknowledged how you helped me. How you kept what happened between us, to yourself. Not many would have, at least not to the extent you’ve done. Thank-you.”

Confusion is now the main emotion emanating from her, followed closely by hurt. Spock is unsure of her reaction. He wants to delve deeper, to see exactly what she’s thinking, but manners keep him from doing so. She might be his mate, but maybe she doesn’t see it that way.

“t’Nyar…” anger again. He pauses for a moment, then takes a step closer to her. She backs up. “t’Nyar… Hisa… we…” Spock takes a breath, and starts again. “A decision was made in haste, that perhaps, was not the right decision.” It’s not often that he’s at a loss for words, but he’s not used to feeling another’s emotions on this level, and Hisa’s are changing faster than he can process.

Grief and anger war inside the Romulan. She takes another step back, no destination in mind except to get away from the Vulcan in front of her. He doesn’t have to be psychically linked to her to know what she’s feeling right now. It is evident on her face and in her body language. Tears start to trail down her cheeks, as she clenches her jaw. She balls her hands into fists, which she keeps firmly planted down at her side.

“Talk to me,” Spock pleads. Hisa shakes her head, tears still falling. “Then give me permission to go deeper.” Confusion crosses her face. Spock takes a tentative step and reaches towards her forehead. She flinches, but doesn’t move. He shifts closer to her, and senses lust under the grief, but it’s tampered down quickly.

He places deft fingers on her temples, and begins a mind meld. She relaxes a little, but is still weary.

Spock finds himself swimming through the myriad of emotions she’s throwing at him. _Hisa… let me apologize. I didn’t mean to drag you down with me. _

_You didn’t, _she insists.

_I forced you to make a choice that you didn’t want to make._

_I was helping a friend… a mentor… someone close._

_I’m trying to accept all of the blame. I don’t understand your anger and sadness. I release you from any obligation you feel towards me, _comes Spock’s calm and logical thoughts.

_What right do you have?!? _her mind screams. He mentally flinches_. Go away!!_

He waits to see if she’ll try and break his hold, but she doesn’t._ Hisa…_

_Stop calling me that! You don’t deserve to know my name! You don’t get to say it anymore!_

_Very well. Is t’Nyar better?_

_No… _her sobs echo around them.

Spock decides this isn’t getting him anywhere so he moves past her surface emotions, delving deeper, trying to find the thoughts that are attached to these swirling emotions. The ones she’s trying to hide from him. 

_If she were Vulcan, perhaps she would succeed, but Romulans don’t often possess mental powers. _ _Hisa is… impressive, though weak_, he thinks, keeping his thoughts to himself. And being able to telepathically talk with her is one of many things he enjoys about her.

Spock finds what he’s looking for, and is quite taken aback. He examines a few other thoughts, and quickly breaks the meld. t’Nyar stands there looking dejected. Her eyes are downcast, and she sways a little on her feet.

He moves her to the couch, where she obediently sits. He tips her face up. A stray tear falls, but otherwise it seems that her crying has stopped.

“It was an impulsive act, I know,” she whimpers. “I didn’t think you were interested in me under normal circumstances. I… I was surprised that you considered me at all.” Her lower lip trembles slightly. “I’m a mess. I’m sorry.” She tucks a stray braid behind her ear. Spock follows the movement with his fingers. He caresses her check, and skims the edge of her ear. She licks her lips involuntarily. Her pupils dilating.

“Why didn’t I talk to you as soon as we came back from Vulcan?” He rubs her ear again, and she closes her eyes. Her lips slightly part. “Or even after we mated? We could’ve solved everything then,” Spock whispers. “I let doubt cloud my judgement. I told myself you needed time to adjust, but I think I was afraid. Hisa,” he says softly, “open your eyes.”

She does as he asks; such melancholy in them. “You could have come to me at any time. But I suppose you didn’t know I wouldn’t have pushed you away. I thought…” He pulls the braid back out, and undoes it; letting her hair free. He moves to another, doing the same. He adores how she keeps her hair, defiantly long against Romulan and Vulcan traditions. And it’s always full of braids with the occasional thin, colored strand woven in.

“I was unaware of how deep your feelings for me were… are. I should have made you understand better that mine also run deep.” Spock sighs, slowly running his fingers through her loose hair. “It was not simply out of necessity that I choose you. I told you that before, when you brought the subject up. I was incorrect in thinking my words solved the problem. I forget that though you look Vulcan, you are not.”

t’Nyar frowns. “I am not inferior,” she growls, pushing his hands away, her emotions raw.

“I never said you were,” he gently states.

She stands up, and he moves to join her. She glares at him. “You don’t want me? Fine. Divorce me. I won’t stop you, but stop pulling my emotions everywhere you please.”

She heads for the door, but he quickly blocks her path. “Hisa…”

“Stop!” she yells at him, daggers in her eyes. “Do you know how private that name is!? How few people know it? It is only for close friends and family.”

“Am I not both?”

“No!” she shouts, throwing her hands up and moving back towards the couch. “No,” she repeats less violently. She stops and looks at him uncertainly. “I don’t know… Are you?”

“I am.” Spock moves closer to her, taking his time. He doesn’t want her backed into a corner again, lashing out like a scared cat.

“I was trying to give you an out,” he continues. “If you wanted one. I see that you do not, and that you have mistaken my intentions. I do not want a divorce.” She wearily watches him as he moves even closer. “I also do not want you sleeping alone anymore, wondering why I won’t talk to you.”

“Why me?” she whispers as he stands in front of her.

“And not another woman?” Spock places a hand on her lower back and pulls her to him.

“Yes. I asked before but you were under the influence of Pon Farr.”

He places his lips gently against hers as he pushes her hips into his, earning a soft gasp from Hisa. 

He pulls his head back and looks down at her. There is no mistaking the look on her face now. He knows it well, and understands that it’s not just lust. It’s admiration and the beginnings of love, too. He saw the truth in her thoughts.

“If you think I deceived you then, what makes you trust me now?” he murmurs.

Hisa furrows her brow. “You’re able to think logically again.” _Obviously._

“Yes, obviously.” She blushes at being called out for her rude thought, forgetting how easily he hears her. 

“Mmm,” Spock hums as he strokes her cheek, letting his fingers trail down to her lips, and gently across them. “But, if I am bonded to you **now**, wouldn’t I be just as biased as when I was **trying** to bond with you?”

Hisa tries to answer, but her mind is muddled by the mention of their coupling a bare week ago. Her throat is tight, and she feels a liquid heat begin to pool between her legs.

“Finally,” Spock comments. “A reaction I expected.”

Her eyes shoot up to his, her cheeks stained crimson.

“Shall we move this somewhere where we could, perhaps, lay down comfortably? My bedroom might work.”

Hisa nods, and Spock smirks at her. “After you, my dear,” he tells her. 

He releases her and takes a step back, eyebrow quirked. Hisa moves towards his bedroom door, wondering if there is some trick she is missing, but no, the door slides open for her and her mate follows, right on her heals. A wide grin erupts on her face when she realizes that she thinks of Spock as her mate. 

She turns and looks at him as she wonders if she should think of him this way. Doubts quickly crowd back in.

Spock snakes an arm out, cupping the back of her head. He holds her there while he firmly pressing his lips to hers. He pulls away after a few moments, both of them a bit breathless. “Yes,” he tells her, “you are my mate, and I am yours. And I hope that… that you’ll stay, Hisa. Not only tonight, but every night as well.”

She nods at him, stunned but happy. “I’m sort of glad you can read minds. It helps when I can’t find the words.”

“Yes,” Spock agrees. “As long as you are okay with my prying, I think it will help us avoid a lot of conflicts in the future.”

“I won’t mind,” Hisa replies as she pulls the Vulcan’s face down to hers for another searing kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (scene set-up: Ensign t'Nyar is in Spock's quarters. They have just started spending time together off duty, but only in a student/mentor sense)
> 
> **************************************************************************************

“Stop fidgeting.” Spock leans forward and presses Ensign t’Nyar’s hands firmly against the table. She glares at him.

“I’m trying.”

“Focus on the light.”

She rolls her eyes at his comment. He’s only told her this 20 times already, and just today alone.

He lets go of her hands. “Do you want to stop?”

t’Nyar lets out a huff of breath, and some of her defiance leaves as well. “No,” she mumbles. 

“Was it not **you** who came to **me** asking to learn Vulcan meditative techniques?”

“Yes,” she answers like a chastised student.

“Then do as you are asked, and focus on the light,” the Commander tells her firmly.

“Fine,” she snips, and stares intently at the small flame on the table. It’s dim, which helps, but she doesn’t see the point. She could literally stare at anything. Why fire? It just makes it hard for her to see when she’s finally able to look away; her eyes often strained and tired.

“You needn’t glare at it, Ensign,” Spock comments.

t’Nyar huffs again, and tries to relax some.

“Try to synchronize your breathing to mine. In and out,” he says placidly.

t’Nyar does as she’s asked. Slow, deep, even breathes. In and out. In and out.

“Good. The room should be disappearing from your peripheral vision. You should only hear the sound of my voice and your breathing. You should see nothing beyond the flame. Not me, and not yourself,” Spock coaches her. “How do you feel, Ensign?”

t’Nyar’s voice comes softly, but tinged in sarcasm, “Isn’t the point of this to keep me from feeling?” Her eyes move up to meet the exacerbated Vulcan’s.

“Focus on the light or leave. Your choice,” he states evenly.

With a clenched jaw, t’Nyar goes back to staring at the light.

*****

“You do seem more rested, Ensign. With practice, it will come easier to you.”

“Thank you, Commander,” t’Nyar says appreciatively, as she leaves Spock’s quarters. 

A curious captain catches the departure scene.

*****

Kirk sits bored in his captain’s chair. He drums his fingers on his armrest. Nothing is happening on the screen or anywhere else within the bridge. He abruptly stands up causing, several heads to turn and look.

“I’ll be in my ready room,” he tells no one in particular. 

The Captain heads over and plops behind his desk. He opens his terminal and answers a message or two before an idea comes to him. He knows Spock is off duty, but what about the Ensign he saw him with the other day? 

He looks up the roster, trying to remember her name, but comes up blank. Instead, he sorts his crew by species. _Should be easy. I’m pretty sure she’s the only Romulan we have._ And he’s right. 

Her information, along with an unflattering picture of her, pops up on his terminal. 

**Ensign t’Nyar. Romulan. Female. 5’8”. Assigned to: Security.**

_Hmm... _the Captain thinks._ Seems she came on board a few months after I took command, and yet… all I know about her is that she glares at me every time I try to talk to her. Maybe the Vulcan used his mind meld technique to seduce her. She doesn’t look like an easy one to win over. And I’ve tried._

“Computer. Is Ensign t’Nyar on duty right now?”

“Negative,” the computer chirps.

“Where is she then?”

“In Commander Spock’s quarters,” the computer offers.

With a smirk and a purpose, Captain Kirk stands up and walks out of his ready room. “You have the bridge, Mr. Sulu.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Lieutenant Sulu replies.

Kirk leaves and walks down to the officers’ wing, whistling as he goes.

*****

“Place the tips of your fingers together like so,” Spock demonstrates.

“I don’t think my fingers bend that way,” t’Nyar grumbles. 

Spock looks at the Romulan pointedly. “Try,” he orders her.

“Yes, sir,” she responds. She tries contorting her fingers the way he showed her, but it’s not working well. One or two keep slipping. 

Finally the Commander takes pity on her. He reaches over and manipulates her hands into the pose he wants.

t’Nyar beams a smile at him as her fingers stay put. “Thank-you!”

She looks so pleased that he momentarily forgets his task; the air a little thicker in here today. “Uh, yes. You’re welcome. Now…”

“Stare into the light. I got it,” she parrots playfully.

“No. The flame is only for illumination today, Ensign.” She groans. “Focus on your fingers instead.”

_Ugh_, she silently grumbles. She tries to emulate him, but finds herself feeling frustrated. 

She doesn’t understand how any of this is supposed to help her. She knows that it was her idea to ask him for assistance, but… She doesn’t want to talk to a ship counselor, she just wants to learn how to better rein in her irritation and anger at some of her crewmates. 

The Commander cracks an eye at her. “You are not focusing.”

“Oh what?” she snaps, as she drops her hands. Immediately she regrets her outburst as this is a senior officer. “I’m sorry, sir,” she quickly adds. Then tries to put her hands back.

Spock drops his own position to reach forward and grasp t’Nyar’s hands again. “Let me,” he says.

She nods, and relaxes.

“Perhaps it would help if I gave you more direction,” he suggests.

“Yes, please!” t’Nyar jumps at the offer, moving her hands in her excitement.

Spock grips them more firmly causing the Ensign’s cheeks to flush at what her brain interprets as ‘intimate contact’.

The Vulcan immediately feels the shift in t’Nyar’s feelings for him and grits his teeth as he finishes manipulating her fingers into place. He drops contact as soon as he can, hoping it is just the close proximity that caused her thoughts to shift.

“Shall we get back to the task at hand, Ensign?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies and moves her eyes to her fingers.

“Breathe in measured breaths,” Spock instructs. “Listen to the sound of my voice. Let the room fade away.”

He waits a bit, then places a hand on her shoulder. “Good,” he tells her. “Think of what has been bothering you. Try to look at it critically. Is the issue really as dire as it felt?”

His lilting voice soothes her, as he probes her emotions and memories. There doesn’t seem to be any lingering feelings towards him, which is what he was hoping for. He has no need for her infatuation in his life. Instead, he feels her anger rise, directed at a recent encounter.

“Were your co-workers really mocking you, Ensign, or were they concerned you did not understand?” Her anger flares. “And does it matter?” he continues in an even tone. He feels her try to tamp down the feelings. He sees her clench her jaw and squeeze her eyes shut. “Focus on your fingers,” he gently chides her.

Spock watches her eyes open. A lovely chestnut color similar to his own, he thinks, finding them quite captivating. 

t’Nyar turns and looks at him with confusion. He tries to get her back to the task at hand, hoping she didn’t hear his thought just now, but the door chimes, momentarily distracting him. 

“Focus on the memory, Ensign. Try to see what motivation your co-workers might have had. How could you have dealt with the situation differently?” The door chimes again, but Spock continues to ignore it. 

t’Nyar looks back at her fingers. “Shouldn’t you see who’s here?”

“I am off duty, and no one has called for me.”

“Seems they are calling for you now,” she sasses, giving the Commander a sideways glance.

“Focus on the task at hand,” he reminds her.

Her eyes shift back. “You say that word a lot, you know? ‘Focus’.”

The door chimes again, and Spock turns his attention to it as it opens. He begins to stand, surprised and annoyed at the intrusion, only to see his Captain and friend in the doorway.

“Captain. Is there something amiss?” Spock sits back down, his back straight.

Kirk looks at the scene in front of him with a grin. “You know, if you are trying to seduce her, you should have more candles, and perhaps some soft music playing.”

t’Nyar’s cheeks redden, as she maintains her position, but she can’t help but let out a small chuckle.

Spock shoots her a look she misses, then directions his attention back to the Captain. “I assure you, you have the wrong idea,” the Vulcan insists.

Kirk comes fully into the room, letting the doors slide shut behind him. “Dark atmosphere, candle-light, a woman alone in your quarters… Need I say more?”

“No. You do not need to say anymore,” Spock answers as he stands and moves away from the table. “You are embarrassing yourself,” he adds, dropping his voice low. However, the snicker behind him lets him know his words were heard.

“What you do in your time off is none of my business,” the Captain starts.

“Then why are you here?” Spock asks, trying to remain impassive.

“Curiosity.”

“And if you are done satisfying that, perhaps we can get back to our meditation, Captain.”

Kirk can see that he’s embarrassed and irritated his first officer enough. He puts his hands up, “Alright,” he tells his friend. “Excuse my intrusion, Ensign t’Nyar.”

“Of course, Captain,” she replies, her hands now settled in her lap, much to Spock’s annoyance.

“Goodnight, you two. Enjoy your… mediation,” he smirks.

“Goodnight,” the Commander returns. He follows James to the door, ensuring his departure. 

Kirk starts to head out, then turns, with a hand on the door, he holds it open. “You know, Spock. She’s always seemed a bit angry to me before, but just now… Well, maybe you two could make it work.”

“Goodnight,” comes the Vulcan’s clipped reply.

Captain Kirk chuckles and leaves with a wave.

t’Nyar waves back as the doors slide shut.

“Do not humor him,” Spock chastises her.

She grins at him, and turns back in her chair, her hands up, trying to put her fingers back into position.

With a sigh, Spock moves over to her and helps, ignoring the warm feelings coming from her as he bends her fingers to how he’d like them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisa learns that Spock is more than "sick". 
> 
> (scene set-up: On the ship. Ensign Hisa t'Nyar and Spock are friends at this point, having spent quite some time together.)  
****************************************************************************

“Have you **_seen_** him lately?” the girl directly behind Ensign t’Nyar titters.

“No, put I heard he looks sickly,” answers the friend. t’Nyar rolls her eyes at their gossip.

“He’s so pale…”

“He’s always pale,” the friend interrupts.

“Yeah, but I heard he got dizzy while on the bridge yesterday, and that the Captain had to help him to the ready room. I guess he was trembling. Kaph said it looked like he was in pain.”

“I hope it’s not catching,” the friend whispers as the lift doors open. 

All three step out with Ensign t’Nyar heading left, the other two going right.

_I wonder who they were talking about_, t’Nyar thinks. She heads down the hall, and up another turbolift to the next floor. She gets off by the officers’ quarters, and heads straight for the Commander’s suite. _Maybe Lieutenant Sulu? I hope he’s alright._

She stops in front of Spock’s door, and steps forward, but the door doesn’t open, it simply chimes. t’Nyar frowns. Is she late? “Computer. State the time.”

“15:25.”

_No, I’m on time_. She steps forward again, but the door doesn’t budge. It simply chimes again, to announce her presence. t’Nyar isn’t sure if she should be worried or not. She’s been coming to the Commander’s for so long now that he found it easier to give her permission to enter at her leisure. 

_Besides_, she thinks, _it’s time for our weekly meditation session_.

“Computer. Locate Commander Spock.”

“He is in his quarters,” the computer replies.

“Is he awake?”

“Affirmative.”

Hisa starts to let her nerves get the better of her as she tries the door a few more times, the chimes beginning to get on her nerves. 

She decides now would be a good time to use her security clearance to try to override the offending doors, but they slide open. Apparently she wasn’t the only one bothered by the chiming.

“What?” an irritated Spock grumbles.

“I…” The suddenly unsure Romulan steps back, staring at a very unwell Vulcan.

“Then please leave,” the Vulcan complains, disappearing back into the gloom of his quarters.

Hisa moves on instinct and follows him inside, the doors close behind her.

“Are you okay? You don’t seem well.”

“I would like to be left alone.” Spock moves to a chair and sits down. Well… slumps down is more akin to what he actually does.

“Have you seen the Doctor?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“Why are you here, Hisa?” Spock speaks her name like a curse. She flinches, but stands her ground.

“It’s our weekly session. I **_can_** come back if you please,” she spits out.

The Commander’s eyes meet hers, and she wants to apologize and shrink back, but he has told her that they are friends when she is here. There is no chain of command, no ranks.

After a tense moment, he lets his eyes drop, and she can breathe again. “Please, leave. I do not need anyone to witness my state right now,” he pleads.

t’Nyar moves by him. “You can’t really expect me to just go,” she states incredulously. 

She grabs a chair, and drags it close. He watches her with keen eyes. His hands clenching the armrest, but otherwise he looks worn out.

“Spock,” she says softly. “Is there something I can do to help? I can call Doctor McCoy here. Perhaps there’s something he can give you?”

“You want to help?”

“Yes.”

“Then leave,” he tells her flatly.

“Are you contagious?”

“Surely your hearing is in good order?” the Vulcan bites out.

“You don’t have to be an ass,” t’Nyar snaps, but doesn’t move. They stare each other down before Spock closes his eyes, pressing the heel of his hands into them.

Hisa leans forward, and sets a hand on his leg. The Commander sucks in a breath that sounds like a hiss, and jumps out of his chair. It falls over, and he moves quickly away from her.

_Did… did I burn him?_ Hisa can’t understand the Vulcan’s response.

She stands up slowly and he glares at her. She can see he’s trembling. She doesn’t move towards him, she simply stays put. “Do you have a fever?” she asks hesitantly, unsure of what to do, but knowing he needs treatment of some kind.

“I see that you will not leave without further assurance. Rest assured that the Doctor **is** tending to me.”

“Aren’t we friends, Spock? You said we were.” Hisa’s voice wavers.

“We are,” he grits. The trembling has stopped, but his skin seems clammy.

“Friends help each other when they can. And when they can’t, they stay close by, to offer comfort. If you’re not contagious, I could stay and keep you company. We could meditate,” Hisa suggests.

Spock seems to consider her offer. He walks to his fallen chair, and rights it. “Meditation is not a bad idea.”

“Thank-you.”

“Will you grant me a favor though, since asking you to leave doesn’t seem to be an option?”

t’Nyar slits her eyes at him, and through clenched teeth answers, “Of course.”

“Will you sit over there?” He points to the couch across the room.

She lets out a huff. “Fine.”

“Good. Thank-you.”

Spock seems to relax some as Hisa moves away from him. He takes up residence in his chair, as she occupies the couch. His eyes follow her the whole time as she tries to situate herself, finally deciding that her legs pulled up and crossed is the best position.

“Oh,” she says, dropping her feet back down to the floor. “Your lantern. Do you want me to get it and light it?”

“No. Stay put, Hisa.” The familiar use of her name brings a blush to her cheeks. She fails to notice the impact her reaction has on the Vulcan leering at her.

*****

The door chimes, but neither Hisa nor Spock move to get it. It doesn’t matter, though, as it opens on its own, revealing the Doctor.

“Doctor McCoy,” t’Nyar greets him from the couch, dropping her hands into her lap. 

Spock doesn’t move except to press his hands tighter together, and clench his jaw, a move both McCoy and Hisa fail to notice. The Vulcan tries to keep his eyes focused on his fingertips, but watches the two other people out of the corner of his eye. _Jealousy?_ he wonders, but decides he doesn’t really care what his motivation is right now.

“How is the patient?” a confused Doctor asks, stepping further in.

“Grumpy, but fine. No coughing, no sniffling, no scratching, or any other visible symptoms.”

“Mmm,” the Doctor comments. “And… did he tell you what to look for?”

“No.”

“You can both stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Spock states, his eyes now closed in concentration.

“Um… he’s been irritable, and seemed feverish earlier, but that’s the only thing I’ve noticed,” t’Nyar continues with her observations.

“Yes, well, that all seems quite normal,” Doctor McCoy tells her moving by Spock. “Perhaps, though, I could spend some time alone with the Commander?”

“Of course, sir,” Ensign t’Nyar states as she gets up from the couch.

The Vulcan opens his eyes, nearly instantly regretting his decision as he takes in her form. He tries to mask his sudden spike in desire, with anger. “You mean all I had to do to be rid of you was have the Doctor order you to leave?”

“See?” Hisa gestures towards Spock, “snippy.”

“Yes, I see. I will be sure to check out everything you said,” the Doctor replies, ushering t’Nyar towards the door.

_Jerk_, she thinks. _You don’t need to talk to me like I’m an infant._

The Doctor’s hand lands on Hisa’s back as he pushes her out the door, but the sound of a chair scraping across the ground has them both turning around to see an angry Commander standing there.

“Everything okay?” McCoy asks, his hand dropping away without even noticing.

“Quite fine,” Spock grits.

“I have a split-shift today,” Hisa offers, “I can come back in a few hours when the second half is over.”

“Uh… perhaps it’d be best if you stopped by sickbay first, Ensign. It might be a good idea to have the Commander quarantined for a while,” McCoy suggests.

“Yes, sir.” Hisa frowns at Spock. _Is he really that sick? But then… wouldn’t they quarantine me, too?_ She turns and leaves, determined to find out later, what’s wrong with her friend and mentor.

*****

“You sat with her for two hours!? I… are you… okay?” McCoy asks, surprised.

“I am better now. She kept her distance for the most part, and we meditated, which helped.”

“But… 2 hours? Why didn’t you have her leave?”

“I tried,” a weary Spock explains, “but she would not go.”

“She left pretty easily for me,” McCoy says as he takes Spock’s blood pressure.

“You do not understand.”

“Then explain.”

“I…” the Commander sighs, “I’ve told her that there are no ranks in this room. And that she may speak freely.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Perhaps, but… it has made our relationship easier. She opens up, which means we can quickly get to the root of what’s bothering her, and then proceed with deeper meditative techniques.”

“Please tell me those aren’t euphemisms for something else.”

“I assure you, they are not,” Spock states flatly as McCoy runs the tricorder over him.

“No, I don’t suppose they are. Or you wouldn’t be in the state you’re in.” The Doctor puts the tricorder and other instruments away. “That said, you seem to be as healthy as one can expect.”

“Thank you. Have you heard how far away we are?”

McCoy sighs. “Still at least 3 days, and we haven’t been able to get someone to reply to our ‘medical emergency’. I don’t think we’ll be in range for another day or two.”

“I am sure you and the Captain are doing all that you can. Thank you.”

“Hang in there, Spock.”

*****

“Ensign t’Nyar reporting to Sickbay,” an exhausted Romulan informs the Doctor.

“Uh, right. Could you wait over there?” McCoy gestures to an empty sickbed.

t’Nyar trudges over and sits down. Her feet ache. She’s pretty sure she’s walked every inch of this vessel three times over today. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to be on alert for, but she didn’t find it.

She starts to doze when a hand rests on her arm. She looks up to see a worried Doctor. “How are you, Ensign?”

“Fine, Doctor. How’s Spo… Commander Spock?”

“We are monitoring his situation,” McCoy replies, taking a moment to reach for a tricorder.

“We?”

“Yes. The Captain and I.” He moves the tricorder over t’Nyar. She frowns, but says nothing until he’s done.

“Am I sick, too?” she asks.

“No. Fatigued, but otherwise healthy.”

t’Nyar nods her acknowledgment.

“I am going to have to ask you to leave the Commander to his rest.”

“Yes, sir,” Ensign t’Nyar replies.

“Good. We’re doing what we can for him, but… distractions like today might set his progress back. You understand?” He pats her arm and backs up. “You are dismissed. Get some sleep. You look like you could use it,” the Doctor tells her with fatherly concern.

“Yes, sir,” t’Nyar repeats. _Has he always seemed so patronizing or am I being sensitive right now?_

McCoy nods his head, content with her reply, and walks away as t’Nyar hops down from the sickbed. She sneers at his retreating back, not appreciating his ‘handling’ of her today.

She leaves Sickbay with a chip on her shoulder, her feet carrying her to her room. _I’m not a child! He doesn’t have to talk to me like I’m one. Geez! How old does he think I am? ‘Understand?’ And what’s with the patting? ‘Good girl, Ensign. Doing as you’re told.’ Ugh!_ Hisa stops walking. A sly look crosses her features.

_But he didn’t order me to stay away from the Commander, did he? He only suggested it._ She smiles to herself, and turns back the other way, letting her feet choose their own path across the ship.

*****

The door chimes three times before Spock decides to acknowledge it. “Computer. Who’s at my door?”

“Ensign t’Nyar,” it reports.

The Commander is immediately torn. He knows he shouldn’t let her in, but he also knows that she will find a way in one way or another. He sighs, and decides on the path of least resistance. “Computer. Let her in,” he states.

The doors swoosh open, and a hesitant t’Nyar enters. “Could we have it a little brighter in here?” she nervously asks, as the doors slide shut behind her.

“It is bright enough,” comes a stern reply.

Spock is standing by the bay of windows, looking as though he’s admiring the view. Hisa moves to stand by him, but his rough voice stops her. “You need not come any closer.”

“How are you feeling?” She awkwardly stands in the middle of the room.

“Doctor McCoy said I am well enough.”

“Could I get you something? A plate of food or water from the replicator?”

“That is not necessary.”

“I feel helpless, and I do **not** like this feeling,” she admits angrily. “Tell me what’s wrong, and give me something to do!”

Spock finds his pulse picking up speed at her order. He can’t say he’d appreciate it under normal circumstances, but right now… well, right now, he finds it attractive. But then again, he finds quite a lot about Hisa attractive. He turns to her, and with a slight tilt of his head obliges her.

“I am undergoing Pon Farr…”

“Oh,” Hisa interjects as her heart skips a beat. While she’s imagined her Commander in some… compromising fantasies, she never thought he actually had a libido that could lead… _No. He’s asking for help, not for you to indulge in your teacher/student daydreams_, she chastises herself.

“Oh?” he quirks an eyebrow at her.

“Yes, ‘oh’.” She scoffs to hide her embarrassment. “You don’t think every Romulan knows about Pon Farr?”

“Indulge me.” He is fully turned to her, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for her to ‘enlighten’ him.

“Of course we know. We share a common ancestor. We also discuss your need to keep everything ‘logical’.”

“You say that with such disdain, Hisa.” He nearly purrs her name. “I thought you were not like all Romulans, looking down on Vulcans.” He moves closer to her. She watches him, but keeps her ground. He wants to touch her, see what she’s feeling, what she’s thinking. 

He’s aware of her crush. She often tries to hide her feelings for him when they are having their weekly meetings. She does her best, but she’s not very skilled, not like a Vulcan. But she is rare for a Romulan.

“I don’t,” she denies. “I’m not ‘looking down’ on you. Forgive me, Spock. I’m only repeating what we learn. We are taught to mock your ways. That our ways are better. That denying your emotions is…”

He reaches out now, running a hand down her arm. Her eyes widen, and her breathing deepens, but she does nothing else. She doesn’t need to. He can read her like a book now. Touching her tells him everything he wants to know. And she doesn’t put up any resistance.

“ ’Stupid’… ‘Illogical’,” he offers.

She nods. “Yes. And that your stubborn ways have led to you experiencing Pon Farr. We are taught that you deserve it. That it’s a form of punishment for denying your true self.” 

He moves fully in front of her, his posture domineering. 

She meets his gaze. “I don’t think that myself,” she confesses. “I see nothing wrong with trying to control your emotions. I, personally, prefer some middle ground between our people. Neither way is wrong or right.”

Spock wraps his arms around her, and pulls her hard against him. His mouth coming down to claim hers, but Hisa turns her head, denying him what he wants. He growls in her ear, and tightens his grip.

He presses himself against her, hoping to elicit the response he wants, but she denies him there, too. 

“Is this not what you want?” he demands. He moves a hand to her face, trying to turn it to him, but she stubbornly refuses. “I can feel that you do. Why deny me?”

Finally she does face him, and fixes him firmly in her gaze. She pushes him away, and takes a step back as he takes a step forward. Her stance indicates resolve, not fear, and he halts in his chase of her.

“I deny you, because I don’t know if you’re making this choice because I am the only option in this room, because you actually want me, or because your body is demanding this now.” He says nothing. “There are other women on board,” t’Nyar informs him.

Spock seems to soften, hoping to win her over using a different tactic. “Hisa,” he murmurs stepping close. Desire quickly courses through her veins, and she relaxes. He watches the fight leave her as his pupils dilate at her response. The predator in him rises to the surface again. But she seems to feel the change as she steps out of his grasp at the last second.

“I will leave,” she snarls. 

“Good. Go,” he tells her angrily. 

“And what? Leave you to your own devices? In the state you’re in?”

“You don’t seem to be helping me anyways,” he volleys back.

“I will ignore your snide comments for now, Spock,” she warns him. 

He reins himself in some, but being around her right now is hard. 

“Look, we don’t have to mate,” she says. “As I pointed out, there are other women on board. Do none of them strike your fancy?” _Please say no_, she silently begs.

“I am not discussing this matter with you.”

t’Nyar snorts out a soft chuckle. “At least that sounds like you.” She moves to sit down on the couch. “Okay. So you won’t discuss who you find attractive, but you will try to sleep with me?” she queries.

The Commander huffs and moves away from her, which helps to clear his head a little. He stays closer to his dining room table, preferring to stand. “I will do well to be left alone, to meditate until we can reach Vulcan.” 

“How long do we have?”

“3 days according to the Doctor.”

“Will you make it that long?” worry tinges Hisa’s voice.

Despite his resolve a few moments ago, Spock walks over and sits on the couch. t’Nyar scooches back to keep some space between them. 

“If I don’t ‘make it’, will you take pity on me?” He reaches forward, and places his long fingers on her leg, just above her knee. She watches his hand intently, eyes dark, breathing shallow. He slides himself closer, his hand fully seated on her thigh now. He squeezes and her eyes close.

Despite the fever tearing through his flesh right now, screaming to take her, he manages to hold it at bay, just. Sweat breaks out on his brow, but he won’t force her if he can help himself. 

He slides his hand up a little more, and she involuntarily licks her lips, he squeezes again and a soft moan escapes. That nearly undoes him, but she comes to her senses first.

t’Nyar’s eyes fly open and she jumps off of the couch, moving away, but continuing to face him. “There are other options,” she reminds him, her breath coming in quickly. 

“Why fight me?” the Commander croons. “I can feel what you’re feeling when we touch. I know what you want, Hisa.” He stands and her legs feel weak. 

She does want him. But like this? When he would be bounded to her, only to later realize the mistake he made? He’s never shown even the slightest hint that he wanted her before. “You’re not thinking logically right now, Commander.” Hisa straightens her posture, showing him that she won’t be cowed. “You’re letting the Pon Farr dictate your actions. There are other remedies.”

“Like the other women you keep offering me?” His tone is accusatory. “Perhaps I’m not interested in them.”

“Perhaps,” she mocks him, “you’re not interested in me.”

He understands why she hesitates now. “You think I don’t find you attractive. You’re quite wrong, Ensign. But it is not my nature to show affection. That doesn’t mean that I don’t feel anything. And it doesn’t mean that I haven’t dropped hints.”

t’Nyar scoffs at him, placing her hands on her hips. “What hints? We meet once a week. You tell me endlessly to ‘focus’, which I try to do, but never seem to quite achieve to your level of satisfaction. So you try different tactics. ‘Sit here, Ensign’, ‘Sit there, Ensign’. ‘Maybe by the window will help’.”

He gives her a half-grin, and steps closer to her. “Do I meet with anyone else?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do I put in as much effort with anyone else as I do you?”

“I don’t know,” Hisa reiterates, beginning to feel unsure of her resolve.

Spock steps even closer, but t’Nyar doesn’t move. She keeps her cocky, Romulan façade on right now.

“Does anyone else have free access to my quarters?” He sees that causes her some confusion. _A chink in her armor_. “Have I told anyone else that ranks have no meaning in this room?” he continues, watching her arms drop from her hips. “And didn’t you tell me your private name?”

t’Nyar’s hands go back to her hips, her stance is rigid, her eyes harsh. “That is more about my attraction than yours,” she spits out.

“Yes,” he carries on smoothly, “but didn’t I reciprocate by asking you to call me ‘Spock’.”

Her eyes drop as do her hands. He takes advantage and pulls her body flush to his again. His head bows down as her shocked expression looks up at him. Hungry lips land on hers and this time she doesn’t stop him. This time she gives in. He presses himself against her and hears her moan low in her throat as she feels his arousal. His hands grip her tightly as devours her.

_Yes, yes_, her body and mind clamor, and he hears it all.

He begins to walk them towards the bedroom. She’s reluctant, but goes willingly enough. He continues to kiss her, touch her, encourage her. But in the end she plants her feet firmly, and pushes him off again. Anger flares in his eyes, but she speaks first.

“And what if you are only telling me what I want to hear? What if after this… this fever passes, you don’t want me? What then? We can try meditation again. It worked earlier, didn’t it?”

“Ahh!” he yells, turning and striding away from her, only to bend down, grab the edge of the coffee table and flip it in his frustration.

t’Nyar flinches. She’s never seen the Commander angry before. Irritated, sure, who hasn’t, but angry? Never. And never to this extreme. …but it does force an idea to come to her.

“Spock,” she says softly, trying to calm him some. He turns violently towards her, but keeps himself rooted across the room. “There is another way… I’m not a Klingon, but I **_was_** taught how to fight. All Romulans are.”

“Kal-if-fee,” he grunts, but she sees the wheels turning. His stature straightens, and looks more like himself than he has all day. “It is something to consider.”

“We could fight on the holodeck. There’s less furniture there for you to destroy.”

Spock shakes his head. “I won’t fight you.”

“Then someone else? Would a hologram work?”

“Maybe… But it’d need to be brutal.”

“You’re not thinking of taking the safety protocols offline are you? I’d stop you, you know.”

He glares at her again. “Sometimes I admire your deviance, but other times… You say you are here to help, but what ‘help’ have you offered so far?”

“You’re getting snippy again,” she tells him, equally glaring back.

Spock forces himself to relax some. She can see that he’s starting to look quite exhausted_. With the wild mood swings, it’s no wonder_, she thinks.

“I’ll give you some time to think it over,” she says. He looks relieved at her suggestion_. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see me go. He’s right, I’m not helping._

t’Nyar moves to the door to leave. “Hisa,” comes a soft whimper from the proud Vulcan across the room. She turns and looks at him, her heart in her throat. “I am sorry that you have to see me this way. I have said… and done things, I shouldn’t have. Please don’t let this taint our friendship.”

Sadness encroaches on her feelings. _Friendship. Of, course_. She’s disappointed, but tries to hide it by giving him a small smile. “I won’t… Spock.”

*****

“Damn!” the Captain comments, coming into his friend’s suite. “McCoy said you weren’t doing well, but he didn’t say you looked like… When was the last time you took a shower?”

“Your tact never ceases to amaze me,” Spock mutters.

“At least your personality seems unchanged,” Kirk adds sarcastically. He moves over to the Vulcan, and squats down, flinging one of Spock’s arms over his shoulder. “Here, let’s at least get you clean.” He stands himself and the Commander up, and leads them to the bathroom.

*****

“You still look like shit,” the Captain comments, helping Spock onto the couch.

The Vulcan lays down, and drapes an arm over his eyes. “I must admit, I’ve felt better.”

“We’re still two days out, but we finally got someone to answer our distress call. I patched them in to McCoy to keep things as discreet as we can.”

“Thank you, Captain... James.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Kirk says, giving Spock a quick pat on the leg before moving to sit in a nearby chair. He frowns at the coffee table, sitting forward. “You got some scuffs on this thing,” he comments. 

Spock moves his arm to see what the Captain is looking at. “Yes. It has seen better days.”

“Got in your way, did it?” Kirk jokes. The Vulcan makes a non-committal grunt, and covers his eyes again. “No worries,” the Captain continues, sitting back, “We’ll get you a new one later.” He puts his feet up on the table, now that he doesn’t have to worry about ruining it, or having his friend get upset by the action.

“So… honestly, how are you getting on? Will we make it to Vulcan in time?”

“Yes, I think so,” comes Spock’s strained reply.

“Then what? You do the deed, get married?”

“Crude, but yes.”

The Captain chuckles and drops his feet back to the floor. “Got a lady in mind? Or do they provide you with one?”

With a grunt, Spock pushes himself into a sitting position. “We are entered into an arranged marriage while we are children. If we get word to Vulcan ahead of our arrival, my intended bride will be there.”

“Seems impersonal, but to each their own I guess.” An awkward silence hangs in the air. James clears his throat. “I know I… picked on you earlier about the Romulan, uh… Ensign t’Nyar, but you two have been spending a lot of time together. Have you… have you considered her, you know… rather than a stranger?”

“Not that it is any of your concern, but yes, I have.”

“And?” a very curious Captain asks.

Spock groans, and pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “She has declined the position.”

“Ooh. And what position is that?” a cheeky Kirk teases.

The Commander shoots him a scathing glare, and James stops, but still keeps the big grin plastered to his face as he lets out a soft chuckle.

Spock takes a deep breath. “She did suggest an alternative.”

“Which is?” the Captain asks, biting his tongue to prevent another teasing comment.

“A ritual fight. It’s meant to be to the death, but rarely comes to that.”

“Wait. She’d rather fight you than have sex? You clearly know nothing of wooing a woman.”

“So it seems,” Spock concludes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After several Vulcan meditation learning sessions, Spock finally learns that t'Nyar has some telepathic abilities. 
> 
> (scene set-up: In Spock’s quarters. Ensign t’Nyar shares her personal name with Spock – Hisa)
> 
> ********************************************************************

“Forgive me, but I’ve noticed that you seem to react to some of my thoughts when I touch you,” Commander Spock comments.

Ensign t’Nyar looks at him confused. She has just sat down to work on their weekly meditation exercises. She expected to jump right into them. It’s what they’ve done for the past 2 months.

“It is not unheard of for a Romulan to have some telepathic abilities, but it is rare. Are you sure you’re 100% Romulan?” the Commander asks.

“Yes,” t’Nyar answers. “Uh… yes, sir. My parents are both Romulan.”

“You needn’t be so formal during our sessions, Ensign. Unless, you prefer it that way.”

“I… I do, sir.”

“Very well. Let’s begin the lesson.”

*****

t’Nyar takes in a deep breath as her mind comes back to the now. She blinks her eyes a few times, letting them adjust to her surroundings.

“You tend to suppress your anger,” the Commander points out. “There is nothing wrong with letting it out in small doses. Perhaps then you wouldn’t need to meditate for as long.”

“Yes, there is… sir. But thank you for your help.” Ensign t’Nyar stands up and turns to leave.

The Commander stops her with a hand on her arm. He feels an instant reaction to his touch, but dismisses it. He is not looking for a liaison, and as long as the Ensign doesn’t act on her… crush, he sees no reason to bring it up. He does, however, wish to conduct a quick experiment before she goes.

_Stay_, he commands her. _Are you hungry?_ he asks before releasing her arm.

He watches her for a moment before she warily nods ‘yes’ to him.

“Good. Sit. Have you any allergies I should know about? Or anything you don’t like?”

“I…” t’Nyar sits back down. “No, sir.”

“Hmm. Then I will have the replicator makes two bowls of Plomeek soup and coffee, if that is okay with you.” Ensign t’Nyar nods again, and the Commander heads over to the replicator.

He sets the food down on the table, moving the small lantern to the side. It has since stopped smoking since Spock blew out the flame at the end of their session.

t’Nyar slowly picks up her spoon and puts some of the broth in her mouth. The Commander begins eating as well. On t’Nyar’s second spoonful Spock reaches across and touches her arm, nearly causing her to choke on her food.

“Sorry, I only wanted to share something.” He sets his spoon down and picks up the cup of coffee, keeping one hand on her forearm. He takes a sip, and sets it back down. 

Letting her go, he questions her, “What do you know about this coffee?”

The Romulan slowly sets her spoon down, her brows furrowed as she’s unsure of what he’s doing or what he’s asking. “Umm… it’s hot? And… bitter.” He says nothing, and reveals nothing, so she continues. “You don’t like it,” she states more confidently. “You prefer cream and a bit of sugar.” She unfurrows her brow. “Then why drink it this way?”

“I wanted a simple meal. And I indulged myself with the kind of coffee I prefer earlier.”

t’Nyar scoffs.

“Something you wish to say?” He takes another sip watching her.

“Nothing, sir.”

Setting the cup down, he locks eyes with her. “This would work a lot better if we came to an agreement.”

“Like what, sir?”

“No ranks in this room.”

“Then what do I call you? I can’t just say… Spock,” she trips over his name, her cheeks flaming red.

“You can. Or you can call me ‘Mr. Spock’. Some do.” He quirks an eyebrow at her. “And ‘t’Nyar’… is that how you wish to be addressed?”

“Hisa,” the Romulan mumbles, stuffing another spoonful of soup into her mouth to hide her embarrassment.

“Hisa?” the Vulcan asks. She nods. And they both go back to eating… in silence.

When they are done, Spock removes the dishes, and Hisa stands to leave again. “Thank you… Spock. The soup was good. Next time… perhaps… we could have coffee the way you like it. I agree, it was a bit bitter.”

He smirks at her as the replicator de-materializes the dirty dishes. “I would like that.”

“Good. Okay,” the nervous Romulan says, heading towards the door. “See you next week then.”

“Yes. But do remember, if you find you are in need of additional time or sessions, my door is open, Hisa.”

She stops at the door and turns to him. “Umm... something you should know, Comm… Spock. That name… is personal. We have several names…”

“Yes, I am aware of Romulan naming customs,” Spock interrupts. “I promise not to share it with anyone.”

“Thank you.” And she beams a smile at him before leaving.

*****

“We could work on developing your mental skills,” Spock tells t’Nyar after letting her into his quarters for another session.

“I,” she starts, “I think I’m smart enough, unless someone said something about my work?”

A soft chuckle escapes the stoic Vulcan. “No, that is not what I meant. I should clarify. We could work on your telepathic abilities.”

“Oh. Does that require more focusing?” Hisa narrows her eyes at her ‘teacher’.

“Yes, but we can have lunch first, if you’d like.” The smile his suggestion earns him, is nearly worth the following lessons, as Hisa puts up quite a fight in learning how to hone her telepathic traits.

*****

“You are every bit the Romulan you try to deny you are,” the Commander informs the angry woman in front of him.

“I. Do. Not. Try to deny who I am,” t’Nyar hisses at him. 

“Don’t you? You use meditation the same way I do, to tamp down your emotions.”

“Well it’s **not** working, is it?” she practically shouts at him.

“No, it is not,” he answers blandly.

“And whose fault is that? Why blame the student alone? What about the master?” Her eyes shoot daggers at him.

He lets out his breath, slow and measured, maintaining decorum even if she doesn’t. “You are right, Hisa. I have failed you.”

The double edge of his words deflates her anger faster than anything. She loves hearing her name on his tongue. And for him to accept all the guilt… _No, I won’t let him do that_. 

“I’m sorry, Spock,” t’Nyar demurs. “It’s frustrating sometimes to not feel I’m getting enough direction, but I rarely ask for any. I want…” she huffs, then seems to cheer up.

Spock becomes suspicious until she reaches out and grips his hand in hers. The sudden contact makes his heart race, and the thought of more intimate touching rises to the surface. He snuffs the idea out quickly, but sees Hisa’s eyes widen for a moment, then clear with a slight shake of her head.

He can only hope that she thinks the thought was her own. He doesn’t move or change his facial expression; so besides the momentary fantasy, he gives nothing away.

A hesitant t’Nyar speaks up in his head. He’s impressed by how clear she sounds.

_I want more counseling_, she begins. _I want to come here and tell you what’s bothering me. I want you to listen, for me to vent, and then for you to make me_ _feel better with some nice words, or… or to help me stop feeling whatever emotion is upsetting me. Am I asking too much? _she implores, her chocolate eyes staring into his.

“No, you are not asking for too much,” he tells her, removing his hand. “Let’s sit back down. I have time if you want to talk.”

“Okay.”

Once Hisa finds a comfortable spot she blurts out, “Do you really think I’m trying to deny that I’m Romulan?”

Spock frowns, carefully weighing his thoughts. “It does seem that way. Besides emulating the Vulcan way of suppressing emotions, you grow your bangs out to hide the ridges on your forehead.”

t’Nyar touches her face self-consciously. “It’s easier that way,” she mutters.

“Easier how?”

t’Nyar glares at him, her anger rising, not that he did anything wrong. “You really want to know?”

“Yes,” he states honestly.

She grits her teeth, and clenches her jaw. Her hands fisted in her lap. “Easier for me. For them. All of those humans who mock me! They don’t even have to say anything. I see it. I see how some shy away because they see a Romulan before they see Ensign t’Nyar. How some look to pick a fight with me because **why not**? Romulan’s are sly and aggressive. This,” she gestures to her bangs, “is easier than trying to persuade them to acknowledge that I am **not** my culture!”

He gives her a moment to seeth. Her hands are back in her lap, clenched tight. “Hisa,” he starts, reaching forward to lay a hand on hers.

She jerks her hand back from his comforting touch. “No,” t’Nyar barks. “You do it, too. Have I ever held it against you that you are Vulcan? No, but you brought up my being Romulan,” she accuses.

“I assure you, I do not hold it against you. I was simply pointing out what you do. Just as you grow your hair out.”

“So!? Is that a crime now?” Hisa puts her hands on her head in an attempt to cover her hair.

“No, of course not,” Spock evenly states. “But it does seem to be in defiance of our shared culture.” He watches her drop her hands, but she looks at him warily. “Most Vulcans and Romulans keep their hair short with straight bangs. You do neither,” Spock points out. “And want about all of the braids?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“What about them?”

“You adorn your head with them, almost haphazardly, yet,” he pauses.

“Yet?”

“Yet, the effect is quite… pretty,” he concludes.

Hisa blushes at the Commander’s confession. Then tells herself,_ It’s not a confession. Just a simple compliment to calm me down._ She eyes him suspiciously again. “Thank you,” she mumbles, because it seems to be expected of her.

“You’re welcome. May I ask then, why all of the braids?”

Hisa relaxes into the couch. “I find them calming, much like you do with meditation.”

“Oh?”

Her fingers go to her head and she lets one of her braids down. His eyes follow her nimble fingers, and he wonders how soft her hair is. What fragrance she uses in it? He watches her braid it back up, but she doesn’t get all of the hair she initially used.

“You left some strands behind,” he tells her, his voice sounds a little deeper than usual.

She shrugs, not caring about the loose hair. She takes down a few more braids. “Would you like to try?” she offers, hopeful.

Spock’s first instinct is to tell her no, and to send her back to her quarters, this session is done, but, he hesitates. “Yes,” he hears himself say.

A bright smiles lights her face, and she comes over to his chair. He doesn’t quite know what she wants until she turns and drops down to sit in front of him, her back to him.

Hisa looks back over her shoulder, “Just pick up some hair. I’ll walk you thru it.”

He does as he’s told, taking some of the soft strands in his fingers. He can’t seem to help himself as he lets it fall away, sliding across his fingers as it goes. She doesn’t seem to mind, but he scolds himself, and doesn’t do it again.

Instead, he picks up a portion of hair, “I am ready,” he tells her.

“Divide it into threes, then cross the left section over the middle part, and move the middle to the left. Then repeat with the right side.” 

Spock tries to follow the directions, and Hisa feels the gentle tugging of her hair. She delights in the sensation, thinking this is the closest she will ever come to him wanting to really touch her.

When he says he’s done, she shakes the fantasy, and hopes that he didn’t hear any of it.

She runs a hand down the braid. It’s not clean and tight, but it was his first try. “Good job,” she lies. “Want to try again?” she looks up at him expectantly, and he finds it hard to refuse her.

“Yes. I will try again, but only if you show me.”

She grins and slowly re-braids the section he just did, letting her fingers move by instinct.

After seeing her work, his next few braids turn out much better.

She spins in her position on the floor, facing up at him. "Thank-you," she beams.

His heart nearly skips a beat and he feels his chest tighten at her happy demeanor. "You're welcome," he states blandly. "And I must agree, there are some relaxing qualities to braiding hair. Provided you know what you're doing."

"And now you know why I have so many."

"This will not become part of our sessions, Hisa," he warns her, "but thank you for sharing."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (scene set-up: On the ship. Spock is in the throes of Pon Farr, and Hisa is determined to help him.)

An impatient Romulan waits for the Doctor to finish with the patient he’s currently talking to.

He’s seems to be taking his time, dragging out her agony. 

_They don’t even look hurt! Come, on_, Hisa whispers to herself.

Finally Doctor McCoy moves away from them, giving a nurse some follow-up comments, before coming to stand before t’Nyar.

“Ensign,” McCoy greets her, with no warmth in his voice. “To what do I owe this visit? As if I don’t already know.”

t’Nyar tries not to voice her rising anger at this man, and as calmly as she can, spells out the problem. “The Commander won’t come to his door, and I can’t use my security clearance to override it.”

“He needs his rest.”

She ignores him and continues. “So then I was worried, which seemed justified. But the computer stated he was fine, and that per **your orders**, I was not to disturb him.” Now she does glare at the Doctor. “Why me, specifically?” she hisses, trying to keep her voice low.

McCoy pretends to give it some thought. “Maybe it had something to do with your visit yesterday evening after I **explicitly** told you not to bother him. As I recall, you even agreed.”

“You asked, not ordered.”

“A technicality that I rectified by banning you.”

t’Nyar huffs at the indignation. “And I only said ‘yes, sir’ because that is what’s expected.”

“And what’s expected now,” the Doctor softly lays out, “is for you to respect my orders, and the Commander’s wishes, and leave. him. alone. Understood?”

Hisa looks taken aback and hurt. “**_The Commander_** said he didn’t want to see me?”

Seeing how crestfallen the Romulan in front of him looks, the Doctor takes some pity on her. “He didn’t say those exact words,” McCoy confessions, watching Ensign t’Nyar’s whole demeanor light up, “**But**… he did say he wanted to be left alone. I assume that means you, too.” He fixes her with a stern look, but sees it does him no good; she’s still smiling.

“Can I talk to him at least? Will he allow that much?”

McCoy lets out a defeated sigh. “Stay right here,” he says, pointing to the spot she’s currently standing in, “and I will see.”

Her smiles brightens even more, if that’s possible, and the Doctor can’t help by share in her happiness. With a small grin of his own, he leaves Ensign t’Nyar, and heads to his office. He’s turn on his terminal, and contacts the Vulcan in question.

“Doctor,” Spock tries to sound cordial, but McCoy hears the strain and effort it takes for the Commander to answer.

Immediately he goes into ‘doctor mode’. “How are you feeling?”

“As well as expected,” comes the gruff reply.

“I left a tricorder there for you. Please do a scan and upload the readings.”

“Of course. Anything else?” the Vulcan snips.

“Yes, but now I’m reluctant to suggest it.”

“Is it a treatment?” He hears the hope in Spock’s voice, and while the Vulcan knows McCoy’s been talking to a Vulcan doctor from the home world, he also knows that nothing can be done short of mating or fighting to help the Pon Farr pass.

“Uh, no. Sorry.” He hears Spock’s rough sigh. “But… while I know you are not up for company, I have a very demanding and insistence Romulan in my Sickbay. And she wishes to talk to you.”

“About what?” the Commander wearily asks.

“I don’t know, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to hear a friendly voice? She tried to break into your room not too long ago.”

“Yes, I heard the chimes, but muted them. And the computer informed me she was checking up on me.”

“I see. Well, it’s up to you. I can send her away if you’d like.”

The Doctor holds his breath while he waits for a reply. Finally Spock mutters into the terminal, “I’ll talk.”

“Good,” a relieved McCoy says.

*****

“Now don’t strain him too much. He’s exhausted, and has a lot to deal with right now.”

“I am fully aware of his situation,” t’Nyar snips, then immediately wants to apologize for her behavior, but is interrupted by two overlapping voices.

“You told her?” McCoy’s surprised voices asks his terminal.

“Tone, t’Nyar,” Spock gruffly chastises her, “And I didn’t have to tell her much, Doctor. Apparently Romulans are taught about it in school.”

Hisa hides a smile at the Vulcan’s icy comment. “I didn’t say we learned it ‘in school’. I just said we’re told.”

“Yes to mock us.”

“I’m not mocking you,” she says softly, all humor gone.

The Doctor smiles, listening to the exchange. Perhaps, it would be best to get those two in a room together. It’d solve a few problems at least. He gently ushers t’Nyar into his desk chair, and gestures for her to keep talking. He then leaves, closing the door behind him.

“Spock?”

“What?”

“We are alone now, and thank you.”

“For?”

“Calling me t’Nyar in front of the Doctor.”

“Of course.”

“You at least sound like yourself, though tired, and in pain. **Are** you in pain?” She asks, sadness creeping into her voice. She just wants to hug him, put a cool rag on his forehead, read him a book, but none of that would help in this situation, and what he wants… needs, isn’t what her heart is ready for. At least, not like this.

“I am not comfortable, Hisa,” he admits. 

Her heart does a flip. Does he know how she reacts to him saying her name? She doesn’t think so, at least, not right now. She’s pretty sure the mind-reading only works through touch or during meditation.

“We could talk, or if that’s hard for you, I could talk? I could tell you some Romulan stories, or badly butcher Vulcan one’s I’ve heard,” Hisa suggests. She hears him chuckle. “Is that a yes to a Vulcan fairy tale?”

“No, but… thank you for the offer.”

“We’re still a day and half away, Spock.”

“I know.”

All playfulness drops from her voice. “I… I can still arrange for a holodeck showdown. No one needs to be there but you and me. I’ll have the Doctor on standby so if one of us is gravely injured, we can be beamed to Sickbay. It could help you.”

“Mmm. Just you and I, alone? On the holodeck?” Spock grumbles.

“Hey. That was **not** my offer. I…”

“Hiiisssa,” he drags out her name on a whisper, and damn if she doesn’t feel heat pool low in her groin. _Jerk_, she thinks, keeping silent. “Hisa,” he whispers again. Her breathing becomes a little more ragged. How does he do this to her so easily? “Turn the monitor on. Let me at least see you,” he begs.

She wants to say no, but she also wants to be in the room with him. She doesn’t hesitate long, she respects him, and knows that begging is not something he likes doing.

“Better,” he groans, “but not the same.”

“Oh, Spock. You look worse,” t’Nyar breathes out. “Let me set up the holodeck… something. Are you really going to be able to make it to Vulcan?”

“Just talk to me.” She watches him slump back in his chair, exhausted. His pallor is so waxy.

“Spock.” She touches the screen as if that can substitute touching him. “When you get to Vulcan, what good will that do?”

“I can finish the ritual.”

Anger and jealousy flare within t’Nyar. “And mate or fight to the death?”

“Yes,” he states bluntly.

“Is that what you want!?”

“It’s what my body dictates. I am not longer in control of its actions,” he reminds her.

“And how will you fight in this state?”

“I am more angry and riled up than you know,” he growls, leaning forward, hands gripping the armrest.

Hisa sits back a little. “Then fight me,” she states. “I won’t have you suffering anymore. This is ridiculous.”

“I won’t fight you. You should know that by now.”

“And… and I won’t…” She looks around to make sure she is really alone, her cheeks red, anxiety creeping in. “I won’t mate you with,” she nearly whispers. “Not like this. Not when I don’t know if that’s what you’d want under normal circumstances.”

He chuckles. It’s low and mean sounding. “Do you want to know **_what I want_**?” She nods, her throat feeling tight. “I want you. Here. Now, Hisa.”

She wets her lips, and shuts off the screen. Her heart is pounding. She expects to hear him yell, throw something, complain, but instead she hears a defeated sigh, and the creak of his chair as he presumably gets up. She waits a moment and flicks the screen back on. His chair is empty, just as she suspected.

_Hopefully he’s still close enough to hear me, and didn’t wander into the other room_. “Spock? I… Will you let me in if I come to your room?” _You’re making a mistake_, she tells herself, but ignores the warning. She can’t have him suffering anymore, and she’ll be damned if she accepts him mating with someone else. If these are her only options…

“The door will be unlocked,” comes a faint reply.

Hisa quickly shuts off the terminal, and stands up, nearly shoving the chair into the wall. She’s out the door and out of Sickbay before the Doctor can acknowledge her departure. 

McCoy’s initial reaction is to yell after her, and maybe flag her down, but he stops himself. _Perhaps, everything is sorting itself out_, he thinks with a grin. He returns back to his task.

*****

The door doesn’t chime, it simply opens when she approaches it, as it’s done countless times before for her. She stands there uncertainly for a moment, then takes a bold step inside.

The doors swoosh shut behind her. “Computer. Increase the lights by 20%.” _How the hell can he see?_

There’s a soft moan from the couch. She sees Spock sprawled out on his couch. He drops the arm from his eyes and watches her, intently.

She moves towards him, but stops with the coffee table between them. She scoffs at herself. _Like this will stop him. _

But does she want to stop him? Isn’t this why she’s here?_ Doesn’t mean I can’t be nervous, _she reminds herself. 

She lets her eyes take him in. Despite what he said, he looks like a gentle breeze could knock him over. “You don’t look well,” she tells him.

“You do,” he answers matter-of-factly. 

t’Nyar adverts her eyes and blushes. She stays rooted to where she is. Spock, meanwhile, sits up, slowly. The movement makes her eyes shift back to him. _Good_, he thinks. He wants her focused on him. **Needs** her focused on him. 

He stands up, and falters a little. Hisa moves around the table quickly, thinking he’s going to fall back, but he doesn’t. And as soon as his iron grips pulls her to him, she realizes it was a ruse, and that he wasn’t lying before. He is stronger than his demeanor suggests.

“Spock,” she chokes out in her surprise.

He grins down at her. _He looks hungry_, Hisa thinks, before his mouth finds hers, his tongue delving inside; warm and wet. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of her hips as he holds her tight, grinding into her. She groans at the sensation, and breaks the kiss, gasping for air. He does it again, and she moans, her hands clenching his biceps, trying to hold herself up as her legs weaken.

Spock feels her weight shift, and he compensates by wrapping his arms firmly around her lower back, pulling her up against his chest. She’s practically eye to eye with him, now that she’s on her tiptoes.

He places another hungry kiss on her, literally taking her breath away as he does. Her chest is heaving, a feeling he would love to feel often, as her breasts press more firmly against him.

He releases her and she start to slide down him, but he’s quick and he wanted this. He reaches down, grabbing her thighs. Spock yanks up on them. Hisa obliges by wrapping her legs above his hips, her hands clasped behind his head.

She stares at him wide eyed.

“Shall we move this to someplace more comfortable?” She merely nods, and he walks them to his bedroom, where he unceremoniously drops her onto his mattress.

“Spock! Rude,” she comments.

“Now is not the time for formalities,” he states as he begins removing his uniform.

Hisa averts her eyes. She’s no virgin, but sex and intimacy have always made her feel a little out of her element. She can’t help the embarrassment she always feels. 

She sees him remove his boots out of the corner of her eye, and hears them hit the floor. She shifts some on the bed. Partly to help alleviate some of her nervousness, but also, because she didn’t land in the most comfortable position.

She feels the bed dip and whips her head around to stare into Spock’s dark, chestnut eyes. His pupils are quite large.

“Do you require some assistance, Hisa?” he growls, “removing your garments?” He tugs at the fabric of her uniform. Her eyes are fixated on him, on his lack of clothing, on how he seems to want her, **_truly_** want her. All she can do is nod her head. 

He yanks on her pants, sliding them down her legs, and dumping them on the floor, along with her boots, which he pulls off in the same instance. 

His hands greedily roam back up her legs as her blood pounds in her ears.

Spock grips the band of her underwear and slides those down and off, as well. He braces himself above her, and she watches his taut muscles move beneath his skin. She licks her lips, and without thinking, reaches one hand up to run across his chest. 

His eyes close as he sucks in a breath. “Hisa,” he moans out, her hand moving lower. 

His quickly opens his eyes back up and practically rips the last of her clothes off, he mouth latching onto a breast as he fingers delve between her legs, pressing between her curls. He uses his legs to force hers apart, but she offers little resistance, spreading them even wider when his fingers move inside of her.

She throws her head back, arching into his palm. He moves his mouth to her neck, kissing and licking a path up as he goes. He sucks on her pulse point, and she moans. Spock then runs his tongue over the bruise that’s sure to form there.

She can feel his selfish desire lap at her brain the more he touches her, the more he thrusts his fingers into her; dominating her anyway he can. She lets him. She has no urge to resist him right now. Perhaps later she’ll consider if this was the right course of action, but now is not the time.

_Yes, please_, she begs him, one hand snaking behind his head, fingers weaving through his hair, the other hand griping his forearm. Both hands trying to pull him closer, while simultaneously holding onto to him to help ground herself. It doesn’t work as his emotions start to drown hers out.

She finds it hard to focus, and decides to let go. She wants to be swept away anyways. 

Hisa feels Spock move his hand and replace it with the head of his penis. He presses hard against her, going as deep as her body will allow. With a low groan, he pulls back and presses hard into her again, her fluids coating him as he goes, allowing him even further access. By the third thrust he’s seated completely inside of her.

Spock eagerly kisses her, cutting off some of her moans as he rides her. Hisa’s fingers dig into the muscles of his back, holding on to him. 

He sets a nearly brutal pace of pulling almost entirely out of her before fully pushing back in. She doesn’t care. Her mind cries for more, or maybe his does. She can’t even tell. _And does it even matter?_

Hisa can’t seem to find enough air as the room fills with her cries of pleasure. Spock groans near her ear. Sometimes saying words in English, some in Vulcan, but mostly just guttural noises that spurn them both on.

He slightly turns his head and nuzzles his nose along her earlobe, as he presses her into the mattress. She squeezes down on him, hard. Her ears are more sensitive than usual. He growls and nips her ear this time. She practically scratches his back as she rakes her nails down, unable to help herself.

_Spock, Spock_, her mind chants. _Soo.. close.. please… please_, she begs.

His thrusts come in faster, more shallow, and she’s nearly there. The friction of his body, heavy on hers, helping to push her over the edge. He nips her ear again, and she’s done. She clenches down on him, making him push harder into her. He’s not there yet, but almost. 

Her voice lets out a serious of whimpers as her muscles stay tight, and an almost painful euphoria fills her. He continues pushing and pulling out of her, his rhythm starting to falter, and then he’s there. He presses deep into her, a few more pumps and he lets her take all of his weight. His breathing is ragged as is hers. Sweat coats them both.

Slowly his breathing returns to normal, and he pulls out of her. He lays next to her, facing the ceiling, not touching.

It seems to take Hisa longer to recover. Her chest is still heaving. She feels empty and used as the silence stretches. _Is he fine now? Will things just go back to normal?_

“You have doubts,” the Vulcan beside her mutters.

“Yes,” she said hesitantly. _How could he know? He can read body language, you dolt_, she criticizes herself.

He turns to her, propping himself up on his elbow. Hisa closes her legs, and rests an arm across her breasts. If he notices her self-conscious behavior, he says nothing.

“We are bonded now. And while I can’t hear your thoughts the way I can when we touch, I do hear you.”

“Oh.” _Great, as if I’m not neurotic enough, now I have someone eavesdropping all of the time_.

“You don’t like this news?”

“I… Uh… does it matter?” Quickly changing subjects, Hisa adds, “How are you? Now that… Do you feel any better?” _Stupid question,_ she thinks, as he brushes a hand down her arm_. Of course he should feel better after we… Could he stop? That’s distracting. Unless… unless he wants to go again_. Her eyes widen, meeting his. Her breathing starts to deepen again at the prospect of being under Spock once more.

He smiles at her, but it seems forced. He moves his hand away. “I should rest now, but yes, I feel better. Thank you.” He stifles a yawn, but gets up off of the bed. Hisa averts her eyes. It’s instinctual for her.

Spock pads into the bathroom. She hears the toilet, followed by water running. He steps out a few moments later. He stops to pick up his discarded pants, which he brushes off. He slips them back on. Hisa meanwhile, has sat up, a hand resting in her lap, her arm still over her breasts, both meant to give her some modesty.

Before Spock begins to talk, Hisa’s nerves override her thoughts and she speaks up while sliding off of the bed, “I should go. I’m glad that you’re better. Perhaps Doctor McCoy should come check on you to make sure, but you seem fine.” She spits the words out quickly as she grabs her clothes off of the floor. As swiftly as she can, she awkwardly puts them all back on again. 

When she turns around, she sees Spock pulling the blankets back. Their eyes meet, but neither says anything about what they just did. After a moment’s consideration, he lays on the bed, pulling the covers up, his eyelids heavy.

She watches him. He does look tired. _Has he slept any since the Pon Farr started?_ She doesn’t know. When he looks back at her, she feels caught, as if she was doing something wrong.

“Right,” she says. “I’ll go. Get some sleep. The Doctor, or I, or both will check on you later. Night,” she says with rushed words. 

He raises a sluggish hand in an almost wave, and she takes that as her cue to go. The doors close on her, and she never hears his, “Good Night, Hisa,” to her retreating back.


End file.
